


here (and where you are)

by dreamtheft



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3916741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtheft/pseuds/dreamtheft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's not about who deserves what, Ziva. It's never been about that. It's about what you choose." Three years after Tony and Ziva said goodbye, she returns to America for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	here (and where you are)

He used to think about this moment all the time. He wondered what it would feel like to see her again, what he'd say, what she'd offer in return. He used to play it out in his mind, always a different set of circumstances, always with difference results. He was just trying, desperately, to figure if there was a way the pieces could ever fit back together. It was exhausting work. Painstaking and painful. Not recommended. He'd finally stopped, but it took force. It took Abby cornering him in her lab, demanding that she he move on from her. That didn't mean Tony didn't still think about her. Even when he was fixated on her, she was everywhere. In the necklace he still kept in his desk, the one he refused to throw away. In Bishop, sitting across from him, so different from Ziva and yet, every time she moved, Tony's first instinct was to glance up and say something. Not to Bishop. But to Ziva. He wasn't sure that would ever go away. 

Abby was right, though. Of course she was. Too much time had gone by, even at that point, to hold on to any hope. She left. She didn't want this. She didn't want him. So, he made himself move on. He buried the idea of them, of who he wanted them to be. He put that version of them somewhere that even he couldn't find them. Locked them in. Tossed the key. He even moved on, tried to settle into a relationship with Zoe. That eventually crashed and burned. But that wasn't a surprise. Most relationships in his life did. It was his fault. He wasn't in love with her. He liked Zoe. Hell, maybe he even loved her, but not in the way she needed. But she wasn't who he wanted her to be. And that wasn't fair, not to her and not to him. The woman he wanted was thousands of miles away. 

Well, at least she used to be. 

Now, Ziva David was standing about two feet away, in the middle of the squad room. And Tony was frozen. 

All the activity in the room seemed to stop as soon as Ziva stepped off the elevator. Gibbs' team, especially, couldn't have looked more shell-shocked. Ziva didn't say a word as she reached their cluster of desks. She let her gaze drift over Bishop for a moment, but her eyes didn't linger. She seemed so nervous, so unsure, so unlike Ziva that Tony almost convinced himself that it wasn't actually her. It was Tim who broke out of his shock first, his chair almost tipping over in his haste to climb to his feet. His grin said everything and she gravitated to him. Somewhere warm, somewhere safe. Tony wasn't safe. Tony was dangerous. 

Tony was an unopened door.

Tim was hugging her, a gesture Ziva readily returned. When she smiled, all of the lingering feelings Tony had tried so hard to ignore came rushing back, so thick and demanding he felt like he was being choked. He watched the scene before him like he was watching movie. Watched as Gibbs also snapped out of his daze and stood. Watched as Bishop followed suit, her brow furrowed as she put all the pieces together. He could see the motion around him, hear the voices that sounded muffled somehow. But he still hadn't moved. She still hadn't looked at him. It was a familiar dance, their avoidance. After Michael. After Somalia. After her father. It was one, he thought, his bitterness surprising him, that she had obviously perfected. 

Tony felt Gibbs' eyes on him, a glance so quick most people would've missed it. Not Tony. He'd worked with the man too long. He knew what every single look meant, every eyebrow raise, every twitch of his lips. This latest look, the one that everyone else was oblivious to, was asking if he was okay. Tony didn't meet his eyes because he didn't know the answer. Was he okay? He didn't know. So he just kept staring.

Ziva turned to face her old desk, holding out her hand to introduce herself to Ellie. The younger girl looked a little awestruck. Tony couldn't say he blamed her. Ziva had become a little bit of a legend in the NCIS office over the years. The stories had gotten exaggerated, but most of them were true. She was the fearless former Mossad officer, the Israeli ninja who once killed a man with a credit card. The legend. The love of his life. 

It had been three years since Ziva left the team, three years since he turned and walked away from her. Her choice, he constantly reminded himself, not his. Ellie had settled in with the team nicely. She brought a drastically different skill set than Ziva, but the kid was good. She worked hard, she was willing to learn, and Tony enjoyed teaching her. But she wasn't Ziva. _Ziva's not replaceable._ He had said those words years ago and as far as he was concerned, they still stood. There was Ziva, and then there was everyone else. He resigned himself long ago to the fact that for him, it would always be that way.

He watched as Gibbs wrapped Ziva in a hug, whispering something in her ear only she could hear. He was still strangely frozen. She still hadn't looked at him. And that felt so wrong. So much of their relationship happened between the lines, in lingering glances, in hardened stares. But she wouldn't look at him, wouldn't so much as turn her head in his direction, and that was like a punch to the stomach. It's what she'd been doing for years, ignoring him. Dodging every call, never responding to his text messages. A year ago, he stopped trying. If she wanted to leave him behind, he would leave her behind, too. Except he couldn't, or wouldn't. He wasn't sure which. 

A surge of black rushed by his desk and his was vaguely aware of Abby tackling Ziva. He wondered, briefly, how the forensic scientist had even heard Ziva was here. But word traveled fast in this building. All it would've taken was someone in the elevator mentioning Ziva's name to bring Abby to the surface. He heard bits and pieces of conversations, someone asking why she was there, another inquiring how long she was staying. The details were lost in the buzzing in his ears as he tried to get a hold on his emotions. 

He noticed, though, when the conversation stopped. The silence was his cue to look up and, for the first time since she stepped off the elevator that morning, he found Ziva looking at him. He stared back. Unblinking. He could feel his teammates' eyes on him, wondering how he was going to react. The truth was, he didn't know. He still didn't know. He could only watch her. A part of him was still sure she was a mirage. She had cut her hair, the curls now danced just above her shoulders. Other than that though, she looked the same. That's what hurt the most. He somehow expected her to be changed, to be a completely different person than the woman who walked away from him. It would've been easier that way. But instead, he found himself looking into the same brown eyes, the eyes that spilled all of her secrets. Right now, though, he couldn't read them. He wondered briefly if he'd lost that ability when he lost everything else. He noticed a few tendrils of hair had slipped loose from her head band. He so badly wanted to reach out and brush them away from her face, to feel her familiar skin against his fingertips. He clenched his fists instead. 

She stepped cautiously forward. She looked ... afraid. But that didn't seem right. Ziva David was never afraid. 

"Tony..." 

It was the first time her voice really registered, and he was taken aback by it. It seemed wrong that something he hadn't heard for years could sound so familiar, so safe. He never liked the sound of his name more than when it came off her lips. There was a warmth that came from hearing it again, but that feeling was quickly replaced by another: An anger, deep and intense, burning in his veins and threatening to overwhelm him. He was surprised by it. He hadn't expected to feel such fury. Once the shock passed, he anticipated nervousness, a little sadness, maybe some nostalgia. He expected to be able to put on a smile, something he did so well, and hug her, ask how she was. But that wasn't happening. Seeing her again hurt too much, and all he felt was anger. He felt like he was being smothered. Attacked. Fight or flight time.

He stood up abruptly, knocking over the empty coffee cup on his desk. To her credit, she could still anticipate his moves. Her eyes dropped and she stepped back, making room for him to make a break for the elevator. She didn't try to stop him, didn't reach out to grab his arm. Nobody did. But he feel Gibbs come up behind him as the elevator opened. He expected as much. His boss wasn't going to leave him alone, he never did when Tony's mask slipped. 

As soon as they entered the elevator, Gibbs flipped the switch, bringing them to a halt. And that's when Tony finally released the anger, banging his open palms against the side of the elevator until they strung and turned red. It wasn't enough. He wanted to tear the elevator apart, he wanted to burn the city down. Instead, he leaned his hands against the wall, dropped his head, attempted to get his breathing under control. He almost forgot Gibbs was in the elevator until he heard his voice.

"That help?" 

Tony didn't move, "No." 

Gibbs paused, "What would?" 

Tony huffed out a laugh, "A time machine? A bottle of bourbon I can swim in?" Tony paused, turning around to lean his back against the elevator wall, "Do you think Abby has something in her lab I can set on fire?"

"DiNozzo." A request for him to drop the act. 

Tony pushed off the wall, pacing like a caged animal in the small space. It wasn't lost on him that he was standing in the same elevator that served as the catalyst for the shift in his relationship with Ziva. _I thought the Earth moved._ That just made everything worse. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, boss," he said, reaching one end of the elevator only to turn and head back. "She left. She didn't want to come back with me. And not only that, she ignored me. For years. I tried to reach out with her, just to keep in touch, and she couldn't be bothered to say a word to me. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. For three years." 

"She's here now," Gibbs said, the three words saying much more than just that. That was unsurprising. Saying more with less was Gibbs' specialty.

"Yeah, she's here now," Tony bit out. "That's great. But maybe I don't want her here now. Maybe I had finally put this behind me. She didn't ask. She didn't give me a heads up. She just appeared here and expected what? What does she want from me?" 

Gibbs stepped into the path of Tony's restless pacing, forcing him to come to a halt, "I don't know, Tony. But I know someone who could answer that question for you." 

"McGee?" Tony spat sarcastically. 

Gibbs stared at him, long and even, "You're never going to put this behind you unless you get the answers you're looking for," he reached out and flipped the elevator back on. The doors opened on the same floor. "Go get your answers, DiNozzo. Now." 

\---------------------------------------

After some searching, Tony found her in Abby's lab. 

She was sitting still and expressionless as Abby chatted, pacing in front her and waving her hands. He had little doubt what had happened here. After the hug, Abby would've taken Ziva down here and yelled at her, about leaving, about not keeping in touch, about her impact on Tony, probably. Then she would've softened, pulled Ziva into another hug. She would've told her how much she missed her, how worried she'd been. Tony interrupted the third phase. The lab tech was attempting to fill Ziva in on every case, every story, every moment she'd missed in the past three years. She only stopped talking when she saw Tony lingering in the doorway. Ziva didn't even turn around when Abby abruptly ceased speaking. She knew he was there. At least they still had that. 

"Hey, Abs," Tony said, stepping into the room. "Mind if we borrow your lab for a minute?" 

Abby placed her hand on her hips, cocked her head a little. She was appraising him, trying to figure out if he was okay. She was usually able to gauge his state of mind. But considering Tony didn't even know for sure, Abby was probably out of luck. 

Finally, she nodded and offered him a small smile, "Just don't break anything." 

Abby paused on her way out, kissing him on the cheek, and then they were alone, the door closed, the silence deafening. He pulled up a stool next to Ziva's and sat down, trying not to think about the close proximity. He just wanted to get his answers so he could finally move on. That's all he wanted. He didn't want to think about how badly he wanted to touch her. He didn't want to think about the last time they kissed, or the way his hands felt tangled in her hair. He didn't want to think about the final time he saw her, when he turned around for another look and she smiled at him, so genuine and gentle, with tears in her eyes. He almost changed his mind in that moment. He almost stayed. No, Tony didn't want to think about any of that, and yet he could think of nothing else. 

He opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was, "So." 

She raised her eyes from where they had been fixated on the floor and echoed his statement, "So." 

He stood then, unable to keep still, unable to sit so close and not touch her. He leaned both hands against Abby's table, waiting. Every other time, every other damn time, it had been him coming to her. Rescuing her or seeking her out. Searching for her, always searching. He always had to explain himself. It was her turn. 

"Why are you here?" he asked, not caring that he spat out the words, not caring that they echoed the question she'd asked him so many times in the past. 

_Couldn't live without you, I guess._

"That is," she paused, he could feel her eyes on him, assessing him, "a difficult question to answer." 

"Really?" his voice was low, dangerous. "How about another then? Why did you never answer my calls? How about that one? Why didn't you ever at least let me know you were alive? Want to give that one a try?" 

"Tony," her voice was soft, pleading. 

He heard her stand up, felt her move closer. He clenched his jaw, but didn't speak. 

Instead, she continued, "I do not know what to say." 

"Try," he all but hissed. 

She paused, "I needed a clean break." 

"From me?" 

"From everyone," she said. "From everything." 

He huffed out a sarcastic laugh and turned around, looking her directly in the eye. He still didn't know what he saw there and that made him restless. Reading her used to be as easy as breathing. Maybe he really didn't know her anymore, or maybe he just didn't want to. 

"I didn't know when I walked away from you that night that it meant you weren't going to speak to me anymore," he said, his voice hard. "Not a single phone call, not a text, not a letter or a smoke signal or a goddamn carrier pigeon." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "I needed you, Ziva. I needed you. And maybe that's selfish, _maybe that's who I am_. But there were a lot of tough cases, a lot of - a lot happened. And you weren't here. You weren't anywhere." 

He knew, deep down, he wasn't being completely fair. She had told him, after all, that she needed to leave NCIS — all of NCIS — behind. He understand she needed to change, needed her fresh start. Part of him — hell, most of him — understood that. But there was another part of him. The part that kept him up at night, the part that physically ached with the need to hear her voice. That part of him couldn't ignore the fact that the only person he ever let all the way in was gone. It demanded her presence. And it wouldn't be ignored. It tore him apart, made him self-destructive. He could still feel the sting on his cheek from where Zoe slapped him when he ended things. 

The tears in her eyes were nearly his undoing. Maybe it was because she cried so rarely. When she suffered, it was in silence. Maybe it was because he loved her so fiercely. Maybe it was both. But seeing Ziva David cry was his greatest weakness. He never wanted her to be in pain, even when he was angry, even when she was the reason for his. He turned away from her and she reached out, stopping him from moving too far with a gentle hand on his arm. Tony swallowed hard, but he stilled. She always had that effect on him, the ability to calm him, to tame his often frantic mind. He didn't know if he was grateful or bitter that she still had that power.

"You might be selfish," she said quietly. "But I am selfish, too. I knew you needed me, but I could not talk to you, Tony. I could not talk to you because I knew I would come back and I could not come back." 

He didn't move an inch, "Why not?" 

"Because I was not done," she was quiet for a moment. "Please look at me." 

He waited a few seconds before complying. He turned to face her, crossing his arms over his chest as if he could protect himself that way. She reached up, pressing her palm against his cheek. He couldn't help himself, he leaned into it. They weren't people who touched casually. It always meant something. A hug, to let her know she wasn't alone. A tap to his lips, to remind him to be careful. Their foreheads pressed together, to say goodbye. He didn't know what this said. Not yet. 

"I needed to figure out what was next," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For me. But that does not mean I did not think of you, or miss you." 

"Did you?" She dropped her hand from his cheek and, against his will, he longed for it to return, for her to reconnect them, even for a moment. "Everyday." 

"You still didn't answer my question," he said, and she furrowed her brow. "Why are you here?" 

"I am here because I finished," she said. "I started working for a humanitarian organization, helping people. It has been ... rewarding. And I thought it would be enough, but I was missing something." 

Tony raised his eyebrows, "Hot dogs? Apple pie? Cracker Barrel?" 

Her lips twitched, a small smile, but it was fleeting. It disappeared as quickly as it came. Tony found himself wanting to make it come back. 

"When I came to America, I was not looking for friendship," she said. "I had my father. I had my orders. That was enough. But then I became a citizen of this country and somewhere along the line I did not just get friendship, Tony. I got a family. I was ... I _am_ missing my family." 

"You walked away from us, Ziva," he reminded her. "You could've had us back whenever you wanted." 

"I needed time." 

"Three years?" 

"I needed to figure it out," she said. "For myself." 

"So, what now? Are you back? Are you staying?"

She looked him in the eye, "I am staying." 

He swallowed thickly, letting her words wash over him. So much time had gone by since they parted ways. In a way, it felt both longer and shorter than it actually was. But he knew, in reality, that years had gone by. He hadn't stopped missing her. He convinced himself, and Abby, that he wasn't waiting, or holding out hope. But in that moment, with her standing in front of him and declaring her return, he realized he hadn't stopped yearning for her at all. She was in his veins. 

Still, he couldn't bring himself to ask the question, because he didn't know what the answer would be. And that was terrifying. 

"Tony," she started. "I am not coming back to NCIS. I asked for a transfer within my organization."

"I didn't expect you to come back." 

"But," she continued. "If you will have me, I would very much like to come back _to you_. I need to come home, Tony. I know I do not deserve—" 

"It's not about who deserves what, Ziva," he interrupted. "It's never been about that. It's about what you choose." 

She didn't hesitate, "Then I choose you." 

Her voice cracked and he blinked, taking a moment to let her words sink in. He thought back to all the times he'd thought of this moment, of the hours and days and months he'd spent trying to figure out if there was a way back for them, or if he would even want one. He almost smiled when he realized this situation never crossed his mind. It was always him going to her. Always him walking away from his life for her. Always him reaching out to her. It was never this. So no, this didn't go like he expected. But he'd always been good at improvising. 

He took a cautious step toward her and smoothed the stray hair away from her face. It was the first time that day he initiated contact between them. It felt good. It felt right. Like a blurry camera lense that had suddenly snapped back into focus.

"You do know you can't take that back now." 

She smiled, "I know." 

"I should've recorded it. You know, so I'd have proof."

"Tony." 

There was a question in his name. And he almost chuckled, wondering how she could possibly not know the answer. 

He stepped closer to her, "Ziva, I am in love with you. I never stopped. If you want to come home, I left a light on for you." 

He smiled, running a hand over her hair and she reached up, smoothing her hands up his arms until she was cradling his head, their noses brushing. For just a moment, he was back in that orchard, trying to hold on to her when he knew she was slipping right through his fingers. _I'm fighting for you, Ziva._ It was a much better feeling this time around. He kissed her. Soft, gentle. Their lips barely brushed. 

It felt the same. 

They remained like that. Close. Lingering. 

"I guess it's a good thing Rule 12 doesn't apply anymore," he all but whispered, breaking the silence 

His lips turned in a soft smile and only grew as she shook her head slightly, laughing, before pulling him in for another kiss. Harder this time. Determined. 

A kiss that laid claim.

_Tony, you are so ... loved._


End file.
